


Complimentary Breakfast

by misato



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexuality, Consensual Sex, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 23:17:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16753351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misato/pseuds/misato
Summary: "You ever kissed a guy, Halpert?"





	Complimentary Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> my characters now

Ryan exhales a big cloud of smoke, tilting his head back so that Jim can nearly make out the crest of his Adam’s apple even in the darkness of the backseat. The beard suits him, Jim decides; the drugs don’t. 

Little fishy Ryan-the-temp swimming in a big corporate pond -- that’s all Michael went on about the first week he was gone. That, and Jan’s new tits, and the way she fixed his cornflakes every morning (with just the right amount of soy milk, apparently). 

Janet Levinson. Christ. She used to be so independent. Strong. Professional. He imagines being Mike’s little trophy wife, puttering around in the condo making breakfast cereal, and laughs under his breath at the thought. The only trophy he’s ever seen in the guy’s hands is a fucking Dundie.

“Wannanother hit?” Ryan grins toothily, his eyes blown.

He offers the bowl and the lighter. Jim takes it, raises it to his lips, pauses.

“You smoke a lot now?”

“A bit.”

“No Schrute-sanctioned drug tests up in corporate, huh?”

“Nah. Beets are getting real trendy though. It’s a hipster fad. Don’t tell him, he’ll ruin the whole thing.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Asshole.”

“You gonna finish that, or what?”

Jim flicks the lighter and roasts it, swirling the flame and sucking in deep. He pulls back and chokes, thrusting it into Ryan’s hands as he coughs wildly, searching in the car for his water bottle. Ryan finishes it easily, lips pursed, and blows smoke in Jim’s face.

“Cute.” He mimics Jim’s voice. “You smoke a lot now?”

“I used to in college. My lungs hate me for it, I guess.”

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Yeah, usually people say that about piano lessons or riding a bike, not being high.”

Ryan shrugs as he fumbles for the grinder in the dark and starts packing another bowl.

“You’re plenty good at being high, Halpert. It’s the process you’ve gotta nail down.”

“Hm. I don’t mind coughing. Makes me feel like my organs have a conscience, even if I lost my own a while ago.”

“Ha. Funny. How’re things with Pam?”

“Dunno.”

“Been a long time coming. You were over the moon for her a while back.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Yep.”

“Damn, Jim.” Ryan stares, incredulous. “You’re hard to please.”

“Maybe a little, yeah,” Jim says, sipping from his water bottle. “I think I like dudes.”

“What?” 

“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”

“Well, yeah, dumbass. ‘Course not. I fucked around a bit in college,” Ryan admits. “I swing both ways, I think.”

“Yeah. I mean, same. I like Pam. She’s great, really. I just think about guys sometimes, when we’re...y’know.”

“Who?”

“Huh?”

“Who do you think about?” 

“Oh. Kevin, for sure. Sometimes I mix it up and fantasize about Creed for a day or two.” 

Jim watches Ryan lick his lips. He doesn’t think much of it. Weed makes your mouth all dry, right? It’s only natural. He licks his own lips, slowly.

“What’re you doing with your tongue?” Ryan snorts. “You’re high as shit, man.”

“Yeah. I know. I think about fucking you while I’m in her,” Jim blurts out.

“That’s hot.” Ryan’s oddly casual about it. “I’d be down, if you ever wanna…”

“Nah. I couldn’t. Pam’d just die if she knew.”

“Kelly would probably punch you square in the jaw.”

“Wouldn’t be the first person to try. All of Dwight’s weapons got confiscated though, so her fist’ll probably make it all the way to my face.”

“What a shame. You’ve got a nice one.”

“Cute.” Jim grins widely. “Also totally lame. Where’d you get your pick up lines, middle school?”

“Wanna green it?” Ryan asks, switching the topic with ease. No wonder he’s in business.

“Sure.”

Jim does his best not to have a coughing fit this time around, and he and Ryan smoke wordlessly for a while.

“You think you like dudes, huh? You ever kissed a guy, Halpert?” Ryan says, taking a hit and passing it. “Oh, it’s cherrying, buddy.”

“No,” Jim sucks in a breath of smoke.

“Hm. Let me know, okay?”

“I will.”

Ryan flicks the lighter and sighs.

“‘S dead.”

They dump the ash at the edge of the Scranton parking lot and sit in the car listening to Tuesday night talk radio until the high wears off enough that Ryan can drive him home.

Jim showers, but it’s not enough to rid his clothes of the smell.

“You reek,” Pam says, and Jim nods. “Did you have fun?”

“You bet,” Jim says. 

She’s soft and pliant in bed that night, so tight and warm around his cock, and Jim almost doesn’t think about Ryan when he cums. Almost.

He ties the condom off and slam dunks it in the trash can, basketball star style. Pam giggles and pulls the blankets up to her ears to hide her blush. Something like guilt creeps its way into his throat.

While she’s in the shower he presses a hand to his lips, crudely imitating a kiss. He doesn’t know what a man’s mouth feels like -- no, screw it, not a man’s mouth,  _ Ryan’s  _ mouth. Jim thinks about the way his beard would feel against his jaw and falls asleep with a certain pretty-boy-temp stuck on his mind.

When he wakes up hard the next morning, he takes care of it in the bathroom before work. He thinks about girls. About Pam. About Karen, even, as if that would end well. He can’t finish, though. It isn’t enough. Then an image flashes into his mind of Ryan’s head tilted back, a cloud of white smoke curling from his lips, laughter ghosting across his face. He pumps his cock into his fist a couple more times and cums with a groan.

_ Oh _ , he thinks. _ Fuck. _

***

Jim says he feels claustrophobic in relationships, trapped by expectations and tempted by bigger and better things that always seem just out of reach. It’s an awful feeling, but it can’t be ignored. 

Pam and him call it quits before things get too messy. He tells her about the gay-ish thing and she laughs and tells him she already knew, because when they watched Titanic together he was always staring at DiCaprio instead of Kate Winslet. He doesn’t bother explaining that her theory makes no sense (whoever doesn’t want to bone Leo in that movie is probably batshit, in his eyes); he just laughs along with the joke. He doesn’t explain the word bisexual either, even though she’d probably understand it more than anyone else in the office. Well, maybe Oscar.

Either way, Pam and him are just friends again. It’s lukewarm. Safe. 

But when Michael announces that Ryan’s making another little trip down to the office, Jim’s ninety percent sure that his face is cartoonishly shocked -- a Tom-and-Jerry stretched jaw, a scarlet red flush. The camera definitely picks it up, and so does Pam.

He leans over her desk once Michael shuts himself back in his office, sorting through jelly beans and popping one into his mouth.

“The temp, huh?” she says.

He swallows.

“Aw, c’mon, what are you, Dwight? He has a name.”

“I’m just joking, Jim. Jeez.”

“I know,” he sighs. 

“Did anything happen when you two were--?”

“Getting high?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

Pam glances down.

“I’m serious,” Jim says. “Cross my heart, hope to die, Beesly.”

“Alright.”

He eats another piece of candy. Then the phone rings, and Pam picks it up, looking very relieved to have something to do.

“See ya,” he whispers, and she nods, mouthing a goodbye.

He makes some attempt to sell paper, but forfeits it in favor of the snarky half-chub in his khakis at the prospect of Ryan’s arrival. Even his dick won’t shut up about it. He gives in and ducks out to jerk off in the mens’ bathroom a half hour before Ryan’s supposed to arrive, rubbing a desperate hand over his cock and biting back moans. The door squeaks open, and his hand flies from his cock immediately. 

“Hey, Jim, you hiding in here?” Ryan’s voice echoes through the bathroom. “Andy said you disappeared off somewhere.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathes, his erection still bobbing heavily between his legs. “I’m in here.”

“Oh, okay. There’s a meeting in the conference room in ten minutes. See ya.”

“Yeah, be right out.”

Jim hears footsteps, and then quiet. He’s even harder now, for some screwed up reason, so he spits on his hand and keeps going. The slick sound of his cock fucking into his fist echoes through the stalls.

“Jim?” 

Jim’s makes a little choked sound and stops moving. Ryan’s still there.

“Yep?” His voice trembles.

“Meet me in my car after work, okay? Oh, and don’t cum.”

Jim lets out a shaky breath.

“Got it.”

He tucks his cock back into his pants, washes his hands thoroughly, and wills his erection to subside.

Michael hijacks the meeting; Dwight makes himself look like an idiot; Angela scowls; Stanley finishes a crossword. Ryan gawks at him the whole time, eyes trained hungrily on his crotch, which doesn’t help the whole erection problem. He looks like he wants to eat him alive or something. 

Jim wonders privately if that’s why he showed up today, if Ryan overheard about his and Pam’s splitting, if he decided he wanted a taste.  _ God _ , he thinks.  _ Don’t be a skeev, Halpert. He’s no Jan. He has business to do.  _ An image of a glistening, suntanned Ryan in Sandals, Jamaica pops unwillingly into his head and he swallows hard.  _ Keep it together. _

Jim waves goodbye to Pam, who looks as if she might have something to say, but if she does, she doesn’t say it. Ryan’s car smells like those tree-shaped air fresheners and the backseat is full of dry cleaning this time. Jim fidgets uncomfortably in the passenger’s seat while Ryan puts the key in the ignition. Radio music bursts through the speakers; something bubblegum pop and kind of embarrassing, if Jim cared about that sort of thing.

“You’re quiet,” Ryan says, turning the volume down and looking over at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Jim says. “Peachy.”

“Cool. So, did you want to fuck me, or…?”

Straight and to the point. Jim’s glad for that.

“Yeah. Oh, God, yeah. My roommate’s probably home though.”

“Ah, I have a hotel room.”

“Nice. Is there complimentary breakfast?” 

“I guess we’ll find out. I’m hoping there’s a waffle maker.”

The banter comes easier than the sex talk, and the awkwardness eases by the time they’ve pulled into the hotel parking lot. Ryan checks them in -- third floor, the receptionist tells them with a wink, second room past the elevator. Soon Jim’s sitting on the mattress, staring at the shitty paintings and praying that the spare condom he keeps in his wallet isn’t expired.

“I’m gonna shower real quick,” Ryan says, and Jim wonders if he should offer join him, but instead he just sits there quietly and listens to the faucet sputter on through the thin walls.

It feels very anticlimatic and maybe that’s a good thing. Getting what you want isn’t always a made-for-TV movie moment; sometimes it just happens. 

The shower turns off. Ryan comes out mostly naked and very warm and smelling like cheap soap. He slides onto Jim’s lap, getting his khakis damp, but Jim doesn’t really care. The towel doesn’t hide much and soon it gets flung to the floor anyway. Ryan’s cock rubs half-hard against Jim’s clothed thigh.

“C’mon, Halpert, unbuckle already. Show me what you’ve got hidden in there.” 

The words rumble against his neck. The beard feels rough, like Jim imagined, and he wonders how it would feel against his inner thighs. At this rate, he’s gonna come before he even pulls his cock out.

Jim struggles to undo his belt, his breath coming out in short gasps. Ryan stares intently as his fingers move. Then he gets impatient and kisses Jim as he finally tugs his pants off, kicking them to the floor, and Jim decides it’s not all that different from kissing a woman. Maybe a little rougher, slightly less sweet. Pam always wore that fruity chapstick and Ryan just tastes like mouth and maybe menthol cigarettes. He likes it -- loves it, really, aches for the sting of teeth tugging at his lips, relishes in the roughness of scruff raw against his collarbone. Jim quickly unbuttons his shirt, undoes his tie, and Ryan hungrily makes his way over his neck. 

“I left a mark,” Ryan laughs softly, breaking the moment, a breath of air puffing against the damp space below his jaw. “Everyone will see.”

“No one will know it was you,” Jim says.

“And what if I want them to know?”

“Please,” Jim says. “Michael would be jealous.”

“Gross,” Ryan hides his face in Jim’s shoulder. “I don’t think he ever really wanted to--”

“Don’t even say it,” Jim says. 

“Can’t believe I caught you jerking it in the office bathroom. How often does that happen?”

“Oh, twice a day, easily.”

Ryan snorts. Then he looks at Jim, his eyes lidded.

“How d’you want me?” 

Jim swallows.

“You’ve got lube?” he asks, and Ryan nods.

“In my bag. Condoms too.”

Jim hops off the bed and rummages for the bottle and a condom. There’s not much else in there -- a change of clothes, a pack of cigarettes, a Blackberry charger.

“So you  _ did  _ take a trip down here just to fuck me.”

“What can I say, Halpert? I see an opportunity, I take it.”

“Smart. Where’d you learn that, business school?”

“Shut up.”

“Lay down on the bed. Ass up.” His voice comes out sharper than he intended, but Ryan shivers visibly.

_ He likes being talked down to, huh?  _ Jim makes a note in his mind.

Then he watches as Ryan rolls onto his stomach, his legs spreading wide and his ass pushing back into the air. It’s like he’s a natural. Jim closes his eyes and wonders how many men Ryan’s fucked, worries that he won’t be any good in comparison.

“Stop getting all anxious,” Ryan says, and Jim’s eyes shoot open. “Warm the lube in your hands, start off slow.”

“I’ve done this before,” he says under his breath.

“Wait, really? Pam likes it up the--?”

“No,” Jim says quickly, flushing. “I meant by myself.”

“Hot,” Ryan murmurs, picturing it. “I can be on top, if you want. I wouldn’t mind taking your pretty ass apart.”

He’s pretty far gone. Jim watches him rut against the sheets a little.

“Some other time,” he says, because Ryan looks very nice spread out like that; he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

He uncaps the lube and tries to ignore the ketchup-bottle sound as he squirts some onto his fingers, rubbing it between his hands. Then he lays next to Ryan, kissing his shoulder and prodding a tentative finger against his hole, then a second one, then a third. He’s warm and tight, clenching at times, but eventually he relaxes, letting his fingers splay out. 

“Ugh, I wanted to suck you off,” Ryan complains in the most Kelly Kapoor way possible, but then his eyelids slide shut, blissed out as Jim’s fingers press against his prostate. “In the morning. I’ll do it in the morning. Fuck me now.”

“Okay,” Jim says. “ _ Now _ now?”

“Yeah,” Ryan says, opening his eyes. “I’m good to go if you are.”

Jim quickly strokes himself to hardness and fumbles with the condom, making sure it’s right-side up as he pinches the tip and rolls it down. Ryan stares at his cock like his mouth is watering, and Jim doesn’t think he’s all  _ that  _ big, but he’d like to hope he’s bigger than anyone Ryan’s had before. Judging by how wide his eyes are, there’s a good chance. He crawls on top of Ryan, who bucks backwards, his ass pushing teasingly against Jim’s erection.

“C’mon, fuck me,” he gasps. “How long have you wanted it? Weeks, months?”

“Since you showed up,” Jim breathes, hands smoothing over Ryan’s ass and pushing inside. “God, you’re fucking tight, baby.”

Ryan sighs out a little satisfied moan as Jim fills him all the way up.

“That feels so good, Halpert. Jesus Christ, you’re big.”

Jim feels his cock ache at that, and thrusts in experimentally, hoping he won’t blow his load within seconds.

“Move,” Ryan insists, and so Jim does.

The sound of damp skin against skin fills the room and the headboard knocks against the wall as the mattress rocks beneath the weight of their bodies. Ryan’s a loud fuck; he’s a mess of moans and little sounds that make Jim’s knees melt. His fingers are digging little marks into Ryan’s hips and he wonders if they’ll last or fade; he was never this rough with Pam or any woman, but Ryan seems to adore it. He pistons in and out, trying to aim for the place that knocks the breath from Ryan’s lungs the most.

“Oh, right there,” Ryan keens, and Jim smiles a little at his succeess, thrusting quick and hard against that spot.

“So pretty for me,” Jim praises.

It’s the ‘for me’ that makes Ryan’s thighs tremble and threaten to give out. He’s a mess, hair still damp from the shower and sticking to his forehead, his mouth falling open, his breath ragged. 

“Turn over. I want to see your face,” Jim says, and Ryan does, flopping onto his back, grateful to go limp as a pillow gets shoved beneath his waist.

He’s so hard it looks painful, and Jim, for one torturous second, imagines making him beg for it. But he’s too far gone himself, so he just pushes back in, relishing in the luxurious sound Ryan makes at the feeling of Jim’s cock nestled back inside his ass. 

Jim nuzzles into his neck, sucking a mark beneath his ear.

“Your collar won’t hide that one,” he murmurs. “Gonna be wearing scarves for a few days. Someone’s bound to notice.”

“More,” is all Ryan says. “Let them notice.”

Jim bites harder, trailing hickeys from his earlobe to his shoulder until Ryan’s whimpering sweet nothings into his ear. 

“I’m really close,” Jim whispers, and Ryan nods, eyes squeezed shut.

“Me too,” he breathes.

It doesn’t take much for Jim to finish, just a few quick thrusts and he’s filling the condom. He pulls out and Ryan lets out a wet sob. Almost immediately he replaces his cock with three fingers, moving down to let his mouth ghost over Ryan’s cock. He sucks it into his mouth, bobbing down and taking as much as he can. It’s enough, evidently, because soon Ryan’s hands are scrambling for Jim’s head and his fingers tangling in his hair. He manages to pull Jim off just in time to cum on his face. There’s a lot; it shoots onto his cheek and drips down onto the sheets as Ryan shudders and clenches around his fingers, riding through his orgasm.

“Alright, I’m good,” Ryan murmurs sleepily.

Jim pulls his fingers out and Ryan curls into a little ball on the bed, tugging the sheets to cover his body. Pam wanted to nap and cuddle after an orgasm too, but Jim doesn’t say that out loud.

“C’mere, be my big spoon, Halpert,” Ryan yawns.

“Okay, one second,” Jim says, crawling off the bed and heading to the bathroom to wash up.

He wipes the cum from his cheek and soaps up his hands, splashing cold water on his face and tossing the used condom in the trash. 

Ryan’s half-asleep by the time he comes back, so Jim just wraps his arms around his middle and drifts off.

***

When Jim wakes up, he’s starving and Ryan’s sitting on the edge of the bed, thumbs fluttering as he types out a message on his Blackberry.

“Complimentary breakfast?” he murmurs hopefully, and Ryan laughs.

“It’s nine o’clock at night. Wanna grab dinner instead?”

“M’kay,” Jim agrees.

Chili’s is crowded and Hooters is a no-go, so they settle for Olive Garden. Jim watches as Ryan inhales a basket of unlimited breadsticks and orders them both pink fruity drinks with dinner. 

“Kelly got me hooked on these,” Ryan explains as the waitress sets the sugar-rimmed drinks down in front of them, and Jim takes a small sip and agrees that they’re pretty damn good.

Ryan barely glances at the check as it arrives in its little black folder, and he hands the waitress his card before Jim can say a word of protest. Then they stand outside in the crisp winter air and Jim watches Ryan chain smoke a couple cigarettes almost as fast as he downed those breadsticks.

“Wanna spend the night in my hotel room?” he asks. “I’ll bring you to work in the morning.”

“Okay,” Jim says, picturing Michael’s jaw dropping as the cameras zoom in on him stepping out of pretty-boy Ryan’s company car, tugging up his collar in an attempt to hide a hickey.

Ryan drives them back to the hotel and they make out a little before falling asleep. Jim steals the blankets out of habit and Ryan snores and in the morning there really is complimentary breakfast. Jim makes two crisp waffles and smuggles a couple single-serving cups of syrup into his pockets when the hotel staff have their backs turned.

As expected, everyone stares when Jim shows up a half hour late to work smelling like menthol cigarettes and Ryan’s cologne. Michael makes an awkward joke that doesn’t land and Pam busies herself with phone calls and Oscar fixes him with a meaningful stare.

“Were you attacked by a small animal?” Dwight asks. “Your neck looks as if it needs medical attention.”

Phyllis gets this knowing smile on her face and Angela puts her head in her hands before rummaging through her purse for her trusty bottle of aspirin.

“Yeah,” Jim says, straight-faced. “Watch out for a raccoon in the parking lot. I think he’s still prowling around.”

Dwight leaps from his desk and runs to the window, fingers pressed to the glass.

“Nope, he’s gone. Just Ryan out there.”

“Mhm,” Jim says, and Kelly makes a little sound like a squeaky toy that’s been stepped on.

“Big Tuna,” Andy says, awed, and all of a sudden Jim decides that his paperwork seems very interesting. 

***

“And then Kelly asked me to be her gay best friend,” Jim finishes, and Ryan nods, blowing out smoke. “So it worked out okay in the end.”

“She’s not mad?” Ryan says, passing him the lighter.

“Nah,” Jim says, taking a hit and coughing a little. “We’re cool. She wants me to take her to a gay bar this weekend.”

“Is there even a gay bar around here?”

“No,” Jim says. “I’ll just take her to a regular bar and slip the DJ a twenty to play a couple Lady Gaga songs.”

Ryan laughs and kisses him warmly.

“I love you.”

Suddenly the realization that this is real hits Jim like a truck. He thinks about making bowls of cornflakes for Ryan in the mornings and taking off work for sunny beach vacations and, hell, saying his wedding vows. And he realizes that he wants it, more than he’s ever wanted anything.

“I love you too,” Jim says, and means it.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for writing this it's literally only in existence because i think jim and ryan are hot and i'm, uhh, gay   
> it's not that deep


End file.
